


give me a remedy

by amomo



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: But he comes back, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, Gen, He isn't dead anymore, I love you 3000, Light Angst, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Tony Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 08:06:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18734989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amomo/pseuds/amomo
Summary: Tony died.And then he came back.Except it's been five years and Steve's old now, and Peter grew up, Morgan hardly recognizes him, and everything is different and Tony hates it, hates not feeling okay. And he's not okay, far from it.But he's gotta keep going, right?





	give me a remedy

**Author's Note:**

> first marvel fic i've written in ages because i'm depressed 3000. endgame really fucked me up so I decided to write a fix it excepts it's still lowkey sad anyways. Oops.

_You can rest now, Tony._

 

Rest. Rest was not something Tony Stark was well acquainted with. Tony hadn’t been able to rest since he woke up with shrapnel embedded into his chest. Eventually, the shrapnel was removed, but the restlessness stayed. A weight pulling on his heart; a swirling mass of anxiety, guilt, and maybe some misplaced responsibility. All of it constantly haunting him, weighing him down. No matter how many breathes he took he could never fully exhale. The doubts, the fears, they always lingered. Always made him feel like he to do something, anything, just to keep it all at bay.

 

And yet somehow, for some inexplicable reason, Tony believed that little voice that said he could rest now. He did it, he did enough, right? He could rest. He could finally exhale and let go. So he did.

* * *

  
Tony felt a warmth spreading across his chest. Like actual warmth, not the hot and sticky feeling on blood seeping out of his wounds. He felt weightless, free. He felt at peace, his mind at ease.

 

“What the fuck, Stark?”

 

It had been pretty nice while it lasted.

 

Tony cracked his eyes open, squinting at the sudden brightness. Bringing up a hand to help block out the intense light source, Tony focused on two heads peering down at him. He was met with the face of a green-skinned woman who looked overall unimpressed. Turning to his right he saw a more familiar but equally unimpressed face.

 

“Romanoff?” Okay, scratch that. Her face was less unimpressed and more furiously enraged.

 

“You died?” She asked scowling. “You weren't supposed to die. I died. That was enough dying.”

 

“Well, this certainly isn’t the afterlife I pictured,” Tony drawled. He sat up, propping himself onto his elbows. and took in his surroundings. Sand, rocks, water. A reddish pink sunset (or was it sunrise?) in the distance. Not at all what his imagined the post-death scene would look like. Especially since he imagined nothing post-death. Or maybe hoped for nothing. Nothing was easier. Nothing meant he didn’t have to feel guilty for dying. Which he kinda was now, _thanks, Natasha._

 

Nope, no time for guilt. Repress like you always do Stark.

 

“This is not the afterlife,” Green Lady said helping him stand up. “We are in the Soul World.”

 

“Soul World? Right, who exactly are you again?”

 

“This is Gamora.” The name immediately felt familiar to Tony. Gamora... _that_ Gamora.  The woman Quill mourned for with desperation and anger. The sister Nebula would tell him about, the one who would always best her at sparring, the favourite daughter. The daughter Thanos killed for the Soul stone all while claiming it was love.

 

“I learned about the Soul World while I search for the Soul Stone. Its existence was more of a rumour. I was never sure if it was real or just a hopeful myth created to pacify those who would be sacrificed. Until I woke up here myself.”

 

“Same with me,” Natasha gestured around. “One minute I was falling, the next I woke up to a face full of sand. Guess we’re stuck with each other even after death, huh Tony?” Tony took note of Natasha’s tight smile. It should be easy right? Just to snark back at her. Make some jokes and cover up the intense helplessness and guilt clawing at his throat. Easy peasy.

 

“Did you do it?” Gamora asked, snapping (God, how Tony hated that word now) his attention back. A balance of hope and fear etched onto her face. She wondered if he was a sacrifice to end Thanos or simply a casualty. Wondered if everything was all a waste, all futile.

 

“He’s gone,” Tony said, eyes suddenly stinging, voice hoarse. The memories of his last moments resurfaced at full force. The burning energy of the Infinity Stones coursing through his body, the ashes spreading across the battlefield. Thanos’ defeat. “We did it.”  

 

 _I did it,_ he wanted to shout. _I took the stones and used them. And then I paid the price._ But he couldn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to explain exactly what happened because then that would force a horrible, cruel question to finally fully materialize in his mind.

 

_Was it worth it?_

 

And Tony refused to go near that question even with a thousand-meter pole.

 

“Come on,” Natasha grabbed his elbow steering him to the right. Gamora followed behind, trying discreetly to wipe her tears.

 

“You don’t need food or rest here. You won’t feel any sense of time passing. That sunrise _never_ disappears.” No need to fight to survive either.

 

“What do you do here then?”

 

“Natasha and I spar. We walk. Look at the sun—”

 

“Braid each others’ hair and tell ghost stories?”

 

Gamora simply smirked at him, “Occasionally.” Natasha didn’t loosen her grip as they stepped over some stones. Tony was glad, it felt like the tether he perilously needed.

 

“Stories are all we have left to tell here, after all.”

 

Tony didn’t want to tell stories. He didn’t want to remind himself of everything, everyone he left behind. So he listened to Gamora tell stories about strange planets he never knew existed. Natasha regaled him about the time Clint got his foot stuck in a door during a mission in Madrid. Gamora told him about her sentient tree friend going through his rebellious phase and how he never listened. And then Tony just couldn’t stop himself from bringing up the troublesome teenager he had left behind. He told them about his brilliant, adorable daughter and his house by the lake. Natasha and he tried their best to explain Earth things to Gamora and laughed when she looked simply blinked in confusion.

 

He should feel guilty for laughing right? For smiling and joking. Part of him hated how easily he was able to speak in the past tense about his family, his friends, his life. But somehow another part of him, a part that was surprisingly more powerful, told him it was okay. He did his part.

 

He could rest now.

 

He deserved to rest now.

* * *

  
Rest didn’t last long.

 

He remembered a bright, warm light. Tony clutched his head, on his knees. His body felt like it was still shaking, like motion sickness on an elevator. His head throbbed, like the worst migraine in the world. What was happening? Where was he?

 

He was in a room, by the window. White curtains flowed in the wind, brushing against his skin. It tickled. Tony stood up on shaky legs, taking in his surroundings. There were loveseats and chairs positioned near a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf. Some paintings of flower fields up on the walls. Archways at both ends of the left wall. It felt familiar yet so foreign.

 

“Don’t _move_.” A new voice from behind him. “I don’t know how you managed to sneak in here without tripping any alarms but you won’t be getting out that easily.”

 

A girl with dark hair, a purple outfit, and a bow and arrow pointed in their direction. Tony watched as she entered through the far doorway, moving to the center of the room.

 

“Hands u—” Her eyes suddenly widened and she lowered her bow a bit. “Holy shit. Holy _shit_. Tony Stark? But...you’re supposed to be dead!” That...was not the response Tony was expecting.

 

“Kate, what’s going on—” Clint? It was Clint. He didn’t have the terrible haircut anymore. Not like he did last time Tony saw him. Wait, when was the last time Tony saw Clint?

 

“Tony? You’re…” Clint looked at Tony, a series of emotions dancing across his face. Sadness mixed with awe and hope, before being replaced with steely anger. His arrows pointed straight at Tony’s head. “You people are sick. If you think for a second—”

 

“Put the arrows down, Barton. It’s _me_ .” Tony said raising his hands to show he meant no harm. Purple Girl reaimed her arrows at Tony, shocked expression now replaced with a hard look just like Clint. Tony began to think of a way to convince them to talk this out. Whatever _this_ was.

 

“Clint...I think it really is him.” Tony whipped his head to the left. Wanda, entering from the other doorway. It was Wanda except her suit was different and her hair was shorter. Her hands swirled with red chaos energy. She walked in slowly, stopping to stand right in front of Tony. Wanda reached up, fingers waving in front of his forehead. Tony instinctively backed up, leaning away. The watery look on Wanda’s face made all the questions on the tip of his tongue die down.

 

She looked at him for a moment, eyes filled with a strange kind of sadness and guilt.

 

“It’s him. It’s really him. He’s back,” Wanda whispered, voice cracking a bit.

 

Clint and the other Purple Girl lowered their arrows, shock settling in on their faces.

 

“Holy shit,” Purple Girl whispered once again.

* * *

Clint, Wanda, and Kate (aka Purple Girl) hovered Tony, all four of them unsure what to do. Bruce came in a little while after. He was still in the Bruce-Hulk form that honestly weirded Tony out a bit. A lot. But he couldn’t really say anything because he just came back from the dead and that was definitely weirder, right?

 

Rhodey was there, clasping Tony into a tight hug. His hand on Tony’s shoulder, a familiar and welcomed weight. There being Avengers’ Mansion, which apparently was _a thing_ now. An old house his family owned uptown. Secluded and well-guarded. Perfect place to run tests on the undead.

 

Oh, they ran tests. Like every test imaginable. DNA tests, blood tests, MRI scans. Wanda checked his memories, despite Tony’s protests. Doctor Strange came in with a tight look on his face and did some fancy party tricks on him. Eventually, it was declared that he was, in fact, Tony Stark and was decidedly not as dead as he was supposed to be.

 

Half of Tony was relieved the annoying tests were over and done with. The other half? Filled with anxiety. Kate, who was Clint’s sidekick apparently, accidentally let it slip that it had been five years since the battle with Thanos. So not only did Tony die and come back to life. He died and came back to life _five years_ after he died in the first place. Five years. Time passed for five years. Without him.

 

They asked him what happened. How did he come back? Reasonable questions to ask when a dead guy shows up inside of your house, right? Except Tony didn’t have any answers. His head hurt, memories a tangled mess. Five years? How could it have been five years? One minute he was fighting Thanos and then…

 

“Natasha…” he managed to choke out. Clint’s head whipped in his direction.

 

“Y-you saw Natasha? Where is she?” He demanded, grabbing onto Tony’s shoulders. Tony could feel Clint’s trembling hands and the desperation in his voice made Tony’s stomach twist.

 

“How do we get her back, Tony? Where _is_ she—”

 

“Clint,” Wanda says evenly, gently pulling him back, away from Tony. She shakes her head him, a silent message to tell him to stop. Overloading the guy that just came back from the dead was probably a bad idea, huh? But Tony already knows what everyone’s unspoken questions are.

 

 _Why did_ you _come back_?

 

And Tony had no answer. Why did he come back? Why only him?

 

They called Pepper. And Happy. And a bunch of other people probably. Or maybe not that many. Someone said something about keeping the fact two Avengers came back from the dead hush-hush for a bit was probably a good idea. Tony couldn’t remember who said it, maybe Sam? They sat down on the couches. They were nice couches, Rhodey had commented. Were they? Tony supposed they were. They were a dark grey colour. Comfy but firm. Pepper must have picked them out. _Pepper_.

 

Tony wanted nothing more than to stop that pressure of anxiety that was building up in his chest. He just didn’t know how. How to exhale? How to let go? The pressure kept building up until Pepper walked in. She rushed through the door. Her hair was shorter, resting just below her jaw. She was beautiful. She was always beautiful.

 

Tony told her so as she threw her arms around him, sobbing into his chest. And suddenly Tony found a way to move past the tight, painful feeling in his chest.

 

“Hey, hey. Look at me. It’s me, Pep. It’s me.”

 

“It’s you.” They were both crying and hugging each other. And then Tony noticed a smaller figure still lingering by the door. His brilliant little Morgan. She was taller now. So much bigger. Five years? She’d be nine years old now. So much bigger. She fiddled with the hem of her shirt. Pepper wiped at her tears before ushering Morgan over.

 

“Hi Morgan,” Tony whispered, crouching in front of her before wrapping her in a big hug. His baby, his sweet Morgan.

 

She didn’t hug him back.

 

He pulled away and Morgan looked up at Pepper helplessly. Tony pretending it didn’t hurt, the uncomfortable and confused look on his daughter’s face. Could he blame her? Her dad died and suddenly came back five years later. Tony offered her a smile instead. He looked at Pepper and then Rhodey. At Clint, Bruce, Wanda, Sam, and the new girl.

 

“So? What’ve I missed?”

 

There wasn’t any time for crushing anxiety. No time to pretend he wasn’t okay. He already lost five years, already caused those around him intense pain and grief. So, Tony would smile and make snarky comments. He’d pretend he was okay, that it didn’t hurt his daughter barely recognized him. That part of him was felt robbed. Robbed of the rest he was promised. But rest was not something Tony Stark was ever well acquainted with. So he’d be fine. He’d be okay. Right?

 

He had no other choice.

* * *

  
Tony tugged on Pepper’s too-short hair. They lay down on a bed in one of the many rooms of the mansion. They held hands and smiled at each other. Forehead kisses and whispering.

 

It was well past midnight and everyone headed in for the night. Round One of welcome backs had been tough. But not as tough as Tony would have thought. Round Two would begin tomorrow. More people to talk to, more questions to answer. Lots of talking. He was tired of talking though. He should be happy, relieved, that there were so many people that cared enough about him to be alerted that he was not dead. Instead, Tony didn’t know what to feel. This was all uncharted territory.

 

He wanted to ask about his funeral. A voice in the back of his head wanted the sick satisfaction of knowing they all mourned. They did all mourn, right? But he couldn’t bring himself to ask. He made them grieve for five years. Did he get to ask how much? How long did it take for them to feel okay again? Were they okay? Everyone looked like they were doing pretty okay. Without him.

 

“You need to see someone,” Pepper announced, breaking Tony out of those dark, sadistic thoughts. “Like a therapist.”

 

Tony couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “Oh, that’ll go over smoothly. ‘Um, hey doc? Remember me, Tony Stark, Iron Man. I died saving the world. But I’m back now—”

 

“I’m serious Tony!” Pepper chastised sitting up, hands clutching the bedsheets. “You can’t keep all this bottled up inside of you. You, you need to talk to someone. Work through everything you’re feeling—”

 

“I’m feeling great, Pep! Why wouldn’t I? I’m not dead. I came back. I should—” Tony choked up, throat feeling dry and heavy. “I should be celebrating, right?”

 

Pepper looked at him, empathy in her eyes. Not pity. She at least never looked at him with pity.

 

“Tony. You coming back is a miracle. And we are all so _so_ overjoyed.” _Not Morgan_ , Tony thought bitterly. “But I don’t ever want you to regret…” Pepper paused before inhaling deeply. She looked back up at him into his eyes. “I don’t want you to wake up one day and regret coming back.”

 

Regret coming back? How could he do that? He was back, in his wonderful wife’s arms. His friends welcomed him back. His daughter was alive. The planet was safe. Only an incredibly selfish person would regret being given a second chance, right?

 

 _You can rest now, Tony_. No, he couldn’t. Maybe he’d never get to rest.

 

“Okay,” he agreed. He’d talk to someone, eventually. Maybe.

 

* * *

  
There’s a lab in the mansion. It’s not a big or as stocked up as his old one was. But it’s there. Full of the new technology developed over the past five years. When he was dead. Gone.

 

But now he’s back, so he heads down there the next day. But everything is out of place. His tools aren’t organized the way he likes. The locks and screens all work differently then he’s used to. His old, unfinished projects aren’t here. Not stored in the database here either. Rhodey said all his stuff was at the Tower, more secure servers there for top-secret plans. He said no one really touched his stuff. Why would they? It’d be rude to pilfer through a dead guy’s stuff. Rhodey winced after he had said that and then Tony felt guilty. Even though he shouldn't have to feel guilty because he just came back from the dead. He died, saving the world. He shouldn’t have to feel guilty or sorry.

 

But he did and he hated it. Hated the uncomfortable mass of emotions stuck in his chest. Hated that these new tools didn’t work like he’s used to. Hated that the locks didn’t respond to his fingerprints. Hated the stupid freaking Iron Man mask they had in a glass box on display like some museum artifact. Hated it so much because it reminded him he died so he smashed the glass box and then his hands were bleeding.

 

Pepper comes rushing over, worried and confused. Bucky is there, silently sweeping up the mess while Tony is dragged off to get his hand cleaned and bandaged up. Pepper does it with shaky but nimble fingers. She clutches his good hand and smiles at him. Tells him it’s okay. Tony doesn’t feel okay so he just nods and thanks her.

 

Morgan sees his bandaged hand later and puts a Hello Kitty bandaid on top and tells him he should be more careful before scurrying off. Tony looks down at the pink bandaid and his hand hurts a lot less than it did a minute ago. His kid won’t talk to him still, but at least she doesn’t hate his guts right?

 

He tries not to think about the angry feelings he used to harbour for his own father for not being there for him. Because he’s here for Morgan now. Is that enough?

 

_Sorry I died and left you fatherless for five years. But I’m back now so please don’t hate me?_

 

Later, he finds that the Iron Man mask is gone. Like it had never been there to begin with. Like he had never died, never left. Easy peasy, just pretend it never happened.

 

Except the heavy weight in his chest refuses to let him believe that little lie too.

 

* * *

 

“How old are we talking here? Like senile old man? Or he’s just got a few grays?”

 

“Like he’s _old-_ old now, Tony. Like senior citizen, uses-a-walker old.”

 

“He uses a walker?” Tony raised an eyebrow at Clint, steaming cup of coffee in hand.

 

“Yeah, bastard doesn’t really need it though. Just uses it for show.” Bucky scoffed. Tony eyed the super soldiers shiny metal arm. It had been upgraded. Wakandan technology, likely. Tony was itching to look at the specs. Itching to look at any piece of new technology actually. But Pepper said no. She said there were a lot of people who still wanted to see him before he holed himself up in his labs again. FRIDAY agreed.

 

FRIDAY was still here, which was comforting. Tony looked around the kitchen of the mansion, mismatched cutlery and dishes. Pantry filled with a variety of snacks. It was all so...homey. A home that Tony wasn’t a part of, wasn’t there to help build.

 

He was here eating breakfast. Pepper on his left, Clint across from him. Sam and Bucky arguing over by the coffee machine.

 

Today’s agenda:  breakfast and then go see Steve who was an old man now. Wonderful.

 

He was currently being briefed about all the major things he missed over the past five years.

 

Clint got himself a mentee, Kate, who also used the moniker Hawkeye. Space squids attacked the city once. Sam was Captain America with wings. Thor was sometimes in space and sometimes on Earth. Their shawarma place shut down. Bucky joined a book club. All the important stuff.

 

And then sooner than Tony would have liked, he was outside by the pond, watching ducks swim, with Steve who really was an old man now. Steve told him about his daily life, talked about the coffee shop near his apartment, joked about his joints hurting. Tony feels a spike of anger at Steve for growing old and having a simple, normal life. For _getting_ to grow old and have a simple, normal life. Because wouldn’t Tony like nothing more than to grow old with Pepper, watch Morgan grow up and become a wonderful human being, retire and live quietly in their house by the lake? Wouldn’t Tony just _love_ to get some goddamn _rest_ for once?

 

Instead Tony had to save the world and die doing it. And then he came back and everything was shit.

 

Steve talked and talked like he always did until Tony was ready to talk too.

 

“You all moved on,” Tony said. “I died and you all moved on. Kept living. Kept going. The _world_ kept going on. Without me. Imagine that, Steve? The world can in fact function without Tony Stark in it,” A bitter laugh followed.

 

“And?” Steve looked at him. Not with pity, not with joy and tears because he was back. Just like how Steve always looked at him. That _look_.

 

“And? And I feel like an asshole for being mad about it. Because I chose to do it, Steve. I knew what would happen. I _had_ to do it. Then I died. And now I’m back and it’s been five years and my daughter hardly remembers me and everything is...it’s _different_ . And what do I do now? Do I put the suit back on? Part of me wants to, part of me _needs_ to. But the world didn’t need Iron Man that past five years, so should I even suit up? Do I _have_ to suit up again? Do I have to keep...keep fighting? I-I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing anymore, Steve.” Tony’s voice feels hoarse like he hadn’t used it in a while. Talking hurt. There had been so much talking over the past few days. Tony was tired of talking and explaining. Tired of questions that he wasn’t able to give answers to.

 

Steve is quiet for another minute. The ducks quack at each other in the pond.

 

“You just gotta breathe Tony. There’s no manual telling us how to handle this. There’s no manual about how to handle most things we’ve been dealing with. We just have to breathe, just _live_.”

 

 _Live_ , because he’s alive now and that’s what living people do. Right. Tony watches the ducks flail around in the water for a few minutes. Then he takes a deep breath. And then another one. And the anxiety in his chest doesn't completely go away but he’s still breathing. He’s still alive. And that’s a good enough reason for him to keep trying, he supposes.

 

“So, Barnes says you don’t really need that walker.” Tony nods at the metal walker next to the bench they’re sitting on.

 

“Of course I need it. Look at me, Tony. I’m an old man.” Tony rolls his eyes, standing up.

 

“Ignoring your elders? Hey, aren’t you gonna help me stand up?” Tony kept walking, back into the mansion.

 

“I’m just a weak, defenceless old man now. I have arthritis and everything!” Tony refused to admit he was smiling, already making plans to throw away that damn walker.

* * *

The day passes and it’s night again. Tony explains what the Soul World was like, but his memories are quickly fading. The Soul World was not a place for the living. And he was considered to be the living now, he supposes.

 

He tried talking to Morgan again but she refused to leave Pepper’s side, giving brief answers to all the questions the two prodded her with. Happy took her back to the Tower. They said they would take him to the Tower in a couple of days. Tony was going stir crazy in the old mansion. Bruce said they made upgrades. T’Challa called promising to go over everything with him when he got there.

 

But right now it was around 3 in the morning and Tony couldn’t sleep. He went and sat at the kitchen table by the window, rubbing a hand over his eyes. Tired, he was so so tired. Tired of all of this, tired of having to try so hard to feel okay. Why couldn’t he just _be_ okay for once?

 

Tony was wrapped up in thoughts of the Soul World, Morgan’s hesitant face, the heavy feeling in his chest and then he hears footsteps and stands up, suddenly feeling helpless without his Iron Man armour. Why hadn’t he put it back on? Why did he think he could be okay without it, without that barrier protecting him? Tony reached for a knife instead and raised it and—

 

“Sorry, sorry! It’s just me!” Eyes adjusted to see the figure standing in the dim light of the doorway, a familiar red and blue suit, large white lenses staring back at him. Spider-Man. Peter. “They um, they said you were..that you were…” Tony lowered the knife dropping in back on the counter with a _clang_ just in time to catch the slim body crashing into him. Arms wrapped Tony in a tight hug and pulled back before Tony could say anything.

 

“Sorry, I, uh, thought you’d be awake. Considering...y’know,” Peter gestured a bit, tugging his mask off with the other hand. Tony finally got a good look at him. He was taller now, more muscular. His hair was a bit longer, bangs falling into his eyes. Face was sharper, all baby fat not gone, but big brown doe eyes the same as ever. Still filled with excitement and innocence. That relieved Tony more than he’d like to admit. After everything, Peter was still excitable, happy kid. Well not a kid anymore, not really. Tony’s heart sank a bit, looking at a still young, but more grown-up Peter.

 

He cleared his throat, eyes locking onto to plastic bags by Peter’s feet. “So you bought out an entire convenience store?”

 

“Oh! Yeah, I um, get pretty hungry after patrol.” Peter said sheepishly. They sit down, across from each other at the round table by the patio doors. Peter offers a hot dog wrapped in foil to Tony which he accepts despite not being all that hungry. After turning the lights one, Tony gets a better look at Peter’s suit. Still red and blue, but not the suit he had made for him.

 

“New suit?” Tony quirks an eyebrow. Peter, mouth full of his second hot dog already (Kid still eats like a starved wild animal) looks down at the spider symbol in the center of his chest.

 

“Huh, oh yeah. Been through a few suits. A lot of suits, actually. No more AI or parachute though. Decided to stick to the basics after the Symbiote took over. Still have sensors to check my vitals because Pepper and Carol insisted.”

 

Tony tries not to think too deeply about Peter getting rid of the suit he made him, tries to ignore the voice in his head that tries to tell him _See, Peter never really needed you or your suit or you help_ because Peter is here sharing his hot dogs and cookies and soda with him at 3AM, 3 days after he came back from the dead. So that can’t be true at all, right? Peter cares, Peter has always cared.

 

“Wait, _Symbiote_ took _what_ over?” Tony asks, Peter’s words finally catching up to him. Peter swallows the rest of his hotdog, making sounds of excitement.

 

“Okay,” he begins, sitting in a position that would have been awkward for anyone not as flexible as he was, one leg bent with the other one up against his chest. “So there was this black goop stuff and I had _no_ clue what it was and then suddenly it was _all over me_ and—”

 

And that’s all it takes for Peter to recount every adventure he’s had over the last five years. He tells them with excitement and the details are all out of order and gesticulating wildly, making sound effects every now and then and Tony doesn’t mind because it feels like Peter and he missed Peter so so much and something is familiar to him for once.

 

So he listens as Peter tells him about Norman Osborn turning into the Green Goblin.

 

“And then I was hanging under his glider like 2000 feet in the air and then we start falling and I have to save him because like sure he just tried to kill me but he’s still Harry’s dad right? So I shoot a web out and—”

 

About a cat burglar that stole his webshooters and now is kinda-sorta friends with him.

 

“And she _swore_ she had the magical powers that made people have bad luck but they never worked on me. Maybe because my luck is already so rotten. Anyways, Black Cat said she’d never steal again which turned out to be a pretty big lie because the next month—”

 

And about him fighting off a group of villains called the Sinister Six single-handedly.

 

“And then Kraven is like _this_ close to stabbing me with his spear right? So I just have to jump into the Hudson River, which was _freezing_ by the way because it’s always in the middle of winter when I fall into rivers for some reason. Oh except for that one time I was fighting Doc Oc, it was spring then but honestly falling into a river is a pretty unpleasant experience any time of the year. Anyways—”

 

Tony can’t help but to feel incredibly proud of Peter and all the wonderful things he’s accomplished. Tony had also forgotten how much stress this kid brought him though. And he told Peter so.

 

“Hey, I’m not a kid anymore Mr. Stark! I’m nearly 23 years old. I go to university and everything.” Peter smiled proudly. And he goes on to tell Tony about his _other_ life, gesturing avidly as he talks Aunt May’s online poker games and how his favourite hot dog stand disappeared and his pretty girlfriend MJ. Tony can’t help but to smile and relax a bit after hearing that the kid has a life, a good one too.

 

The sun is actually beginning to rise when Pepper walks in to find them surrounded by snack wrappers and empty soda cans. Tony feels a little bad when he notices how tired the kid is and realizes he probably should have told him to head home or to bed ages ago but decides that he saved the world and died and came back so he was allowed to be selfish for a bit and keep Peter all to himself.

 

Everyone else begins to wake up soon, reprimanding Peter for staying up all night and eating all the unhealthy snacks as they prepare breakfast for themselves. Peter protests saying he was just telling Tony about the last five years.

 

Sam scoffs, rolling his eyes. “It’d take another five years just to go over everything that’s happened to you the last five years.”

 

“Kid gets into trouble like you would not _believe_ ,” Rhodey shook his head fondly.

 

Clint laughs, pouring himself a bowl of cereal. “Did he tell you about the clone story, Aw man, that’s my favourite one.”

 

“Clone story?” Tony asked sharply turning to look at Peter.

 

“Um, this one time, I was cloned,” Peter says pointing some finger guns in Tony’s direction.

 

“ _What?_ ” The rest of the Avengers assure him that’s not even the worst mess Peter has gotten himself into, each taking turns telling Tony about stories while Peter whines in the background and Pepper says it’s his fault for never calling for help. There’s yelling and joking until they finally send Peter off for some rest. Everyone’s still smiling afterwards and despite all the intense stress-inducing stories about Peter’s life, Tony can breathe a bit more easily now.

 

The kid had been fine. _His_ kid had been fine.

 

(Now if only his other kid would talk to him too.)

* * *

  
“You’re not s’posed to feed ducks bread, because it doesn’t have the right nutrients they need. So you should feed them berries instead.” Morgan empties a handful of blueberries into Tony’s hand before crouching down as the edge of the pond. She tosses one into the pond, it floats for a bit before a duck comes and eats it up. They feed the ducks for a bit. Morgan tells him the names of all the ducks. She shows him her favourite flowers. Today’s his last day at the mansion before he heads up to the Tower and they have to decide how and if to announce his miraculous return from the dead. Fun stuff, you know?

 

Tony manages to get Morgan to agree to show him the garden outside. After a bit they head back in for lunch, walking up the path as Tony asks Morgan some simple questions.

 

“What’s your favourite colour?”

 

“Red.”

 

“What’s your favourite animal?”

 

“Mmm...dolphins.”

 

“What’s your favourite food?”

 

“Cheeseburgers!”

 

“Oh really? Well, it’s your lucky day Miss Morgan because we happen to have some delicious cheeseburgers right here.” Morgan cheered and tore open her wrapped burger. Tony smiled and unwraps is own. The duo ate in silence for a bit, looking out at the trees and ponds through the kitchen window until Morgan spoke up.

 

“I’m sorry for ignoring you,” She says guiltily. “I was gonna ask something from you, but I didn’t want to be mean. So I didn’t say anything.” Morgan admits, fidgeting in her seat a bit.

 

“What were you going to ask?” Tony tries to keep his hands from shaking. Morgan looks up at him. Brown eyes like him, cute little nose and tiny freckles from Pepper. His adorable, brilliant Morgan.

 

“I was going to make you promise you’d never leave again, but…” But how could she? How could she ever be certain he’d keep that promise when he already broke it once. He already left her once. Already died once.

 

“Can I ask for a different promise instead?” She asks, pulling out another pickle and tossing it onto Tony’s wrapper.

 

“Yeah. Shoot,” Tony says as he wipes his hands with a napkin, hoping Morgan can’t see right through him, see his anxiety and fears.

 

“Daddy,” Morgan leans closer, “Promise you’ll always remember that you’re not alone. Me, Mommy, Rhodey, Petey, everyone loves you and is here for you. Okay?” Morgan says with all the seriousness a nine-year-old can muster while holding up her pinky.

 

“Pinky promise.” And so Tony locks pinkies with her and promises to her and to himself. Morgan then proceeds to launch herself at Tony, wrapping him in a big hug.

 

“Can I tell you a secret too?”

 

“A secret?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“What is it?” Morgan leans up, cupping her hands and whispers in his ear.

 

“I love you 3000” Tony hugs her closer and smiles so hard his cheeks hurt.

 

“I love you 3000, too, kiddo.”

* * *

 

He doesn’t feel okay still. But he’s able to remind himself that he doesn’t have to feel guilty or sorry. Tony takes another deep breath. In and out. It’s getting easier to breathe at least.

 

He’s alive so he should keep living right? He tries not to think about the could haves or should haves. Tries not to think about if he deserves to be here because that’s one emotional rollercoaster he’s not boarding any time soon.

 

Instead, he listens to T’Challa as he goes over the new security upgrades. Listens to Clint talk about his farm and his kids. Listens to Morgan as she shows off her collection of Legos, Hello Kitty figurines, and the remote control cars she’s been rewiring.

 

He listens to everyone’s stories and tells a few of his own. It gets easier, eventually.

 

And the one day he’s sitting there. Bucky and Sam are arguing about something. Pepper is chatting with Wanda and Steve. Carol and Thor are telling Rhodey about outer space. Morgan is attempting to convince Peter to take her web slinging. Everyone is loud and annoying and Clint shows up with food and they eat and Tony feels more okay than he has in a while.

 

And that’s good enough progress for him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! please leave reviews I love them T_T


End file.
